The full-moon casts the city’s rooftops in a blue-gray hue, making them seem like lily pads suspended on a lake of shadow. Sarah had found her own rooftop, one far away from everyone and everything. She slid into a seated position with her back pressed against the safety railing that wraps around the roof’s ledge.

  A tall brick wall sits to her side and frames a door that provides access to the roof. Sarah’s sword and scabbard are propped up next to the wall, and she stares at it while trying to reconcile a rage that she can’t get to dissipate. Her crossed arms are punctuated with clenching fists, where her knees prop up her forearms which in turn support her cheek.

  Maybe…maybe restocking my mags will help me take my mind away from it, Sarah thinks as her head continues to torment her heart over something too hard for her to look at directly. Confronting it only ever seems to do more harm than good, so it’s best to avoid it all together. She stands, takes up the sword and opens a portal within the roof access door. She sheathes the weapon again, setting it back against the brick before stepping through and into their real-world cabin as if she had just walked through its front door.

  Sarah reaches for the nearby light switch, flicking it on and causing the room to illuminate via the antler chandelier hanging above the center table. She marches to the center piece, slinging her satchel around and pulling the strap off over her head. Her pistols come out of her holsters to be set down on the table as well. The lone bed in the cabin’s corner becomes a hat rack where she tosses her jacket and mp3 player over onto the bare mattress.

  The scarf’s end comes loose once her jacket is off, a few coils unwinding as she returns to the table. Sarah lifts one of the large green ammo cans from the metal rack that’s butted against her current ammo restocking station, then withdraws several boxes out of the can. Her face feels flush, causing her to place her palms on the table and lower her head as she tries to sort out her thoughts.

  Sarah attempts to shake it off and reaches into the satchel to retrieve their other bag of ammo, pulling it out and hefting it onto the table before turning to move towards the nearby bathroom. The scarf snags under her boot, causing her to stumble so she quickly unwinds the rest of the loose strand and tosses the excess to the side. The cloth that remains is enough to cover her like a sports bra and is tied off behind her left shoulder. As she continues to the bathroom, the excess follows like a snake slithering out of the pile.

  The bathroom door swings inward to show a cramped space with barely enough room for a sink, mirror, toilet and standing shower. The sink comes on, but only the cold water. She scoops several handfuls into her face with much of it absorbing into her hand wraps, cooling her arms and wrists.

Sarah puts her wet palms together over her nose while looking at her reflection. Her eyelids are dark, with eyeballs that are even darker as her pupils crowd out the blue of her irises. She applies pressure to her cheeks as she separates her palms, moving her hands to brush across, then behind her ears.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Her lip begins to quiver then, and her reflection blurs as she moves to curl her knuckles under her nose. She inhales, causing a burbling sound as she breathes in through her nose before forcing the air back out through her mouth while shaking out her hands. Several breaths later and her nose still won’t stop running.

  The light over the sink is a poor one, but it’s enough for her to notice something unusual with her makeshift sports bra. What the fuck, Sarah thinks as she looks down at it, stretching out the cloth, then looking at it again in the mirror. Some of the layers of red fabric closest to her chest are marbled with black and blue with a large spot of yellow. She tries applying water and scrubbing at it, but the color doesn’t budge, almost seeming like the red fabric has been switched out for the other colors somehow.

  Great. Just one more thing to add to the list of broken shit, she thinks, shaking her head. She finishes up, wiping her face again before shaking off her hands and returning to her task. Her hands are wiped off on the side of her pants before retrieving a few more magazines from the pouches fastened to her waist belt. She slides them onto the table as well, then returns to her satchel.

  Sarah looks back into the satchel to find a blue glow to the bag’s formerly black expanse. Well, that’s new, she thinks as she begins to mentally recall each thing in the bag. As she thinks about each item, it meets her hand, allowing her to pull it out. Their bag of food and several additional items come out and are set aside. She tries to think of the hammer only to not have it come in contact with her hand.

  What the hell’s wrong with the hammer? I know Jack put it back in here... maybe only he can get it out then? That better not be what’s glowing. Sarah looks over the items on the table and tries to again recall what all she put in the bag. Then it has to be something with the hammer, right?

  Sarah suddenly remembers an item that she hadn’t known a use for, but it was too important to leave behind. Her hand slides back into the bag and its leathery-felt surface moves to be grasped in her closing hand.

  Sarah withdraws the book shaped object to see a glowing blue rune on its cover, signaling a jailbreak for several tears that had been plotting their escape. It was an object that Grandfather had left with her katana. It didn’t have any visible lettering on the cover, nor had this rune been visible before. She had tried to open the object multiple times, but the pages didn’t seem separable. She had come to the obvious conclusion that it was some sort of paperweight, not seeming to be openable, her only guidance being Emeric relaying that she would know what to do with it.

  Sarah brushes her thumb across the symbol, realizing that she’s seen it before. She marches back out onto the rooftop, scooping up her Katana to examine the handguard in the moonlight. After a brief search, she finds the same rune nestled within one of the diamond shaped openings. Their use and connection don't mean anything to her, but at least the paperweight has more relevance now.

  Sarah returns to the cabin, leaving the katana outside as she presses her palms against each side of the cover. She allows her thumbs to pivot away from each other, the book opening in her palm. Her thumbs hook over each side, holding it open as she recognizes the handwriting. She reads the top line, seeing ‘Dear Ducks,’ then collapses to her knees, pulling the book into a hug as her vision becomes too blurry for her to read further.